


thirst

by rosebarsoap, thenerdlordparade



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, Voyeurism, anyway this is the one where ford jacks it and you watch lmao, but it's completely canon-free now that i skim it again so, researcher era? go for it! post-portal? do it!! (do him ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ), technically i wrote this from a professor pines au i yelled at a friend with, you can make it whatever canon you want :D
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 09:32:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19248475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosebarsoap/pseuds/rosebarsoap, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenerdlordparade/pseuds/thenerdlordparade
Summary: you wake up in need of a glass of water. you find... something else.





	thirst

**Author's Note:**

> this is 700 words of pure ford lust.
> 
> enjoy ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

you wake one night, only a couple hours after you had gone to sleep, with a need for a drink of water. no big deal, you’ll just get a glass from the kitchen, slake your thirst, and be back to sleep in no time.

ford isn’t in bed, you notice. he hadn’t come in before you went to sleep; it seems like he still hasn’t come in during the time that passed. you aren’t concerned though, as ford is even more of a night owl than you are. he could stay up to all hours of the night studying something that caught his fancy, and still be awake and coherent before you in the morning.

you aren’t quite sure how he does it, but you strongly suspect coffee.

yawning, you shuffle over to the closed bedroom door- only to stop, pause, and listen. you’ve heard a noise; it sounds like ford, but-

-but it also sounds very much like ford from when you had both wrung orgasms from each other the week prior, like a  _groan_.

carefully, very,  _very_  carefully, you turn the doorknob, wait, and push the door open just a little, just a big enough crack to peek through. you thank whatever deity may be listening that the doors in ford’s house don’t creak.

it takes a moment for your eyes to find him in the darkness, but there’s enough moonlight coming in through a window that you do find him. he’s silhouetted, sitting on the couch, leaning up against the arm of it, back to you.

it’s quiet enough in the house that you swear you can hear him swallow thickly, breathing heavy. your mind, helpful as ever, fills in the mental image of his throat bobbing. ford swallows again, following it up with- with a quiet sigh of your name, barely more than a whisper.

you realize, then, that you’re  _watching him jack off_ , and… you can’t bring yourself to interrupt. that first (and only) lovemaking last week is still too fresh in your mind - the hickies have only just started to fade. you just- you just don’t have the courage to try and start something right now. if you’re honest, you’re not sure if you can even move away from the door; you just can’t look away.

he says your name again, louder this time. it’s still not much more than a murmur under his breath, but it’s so quiet in the house it’s almost like he said it at full volume. you could hear shifting noises before, just barely, but now they pick up speed.

you shift slightly from one foot to the other, pressing your thighs together. vaguely, eyes still glued to the view through the door, you wonder if ford is reliving last week. you didn’t feel like you had been particularly  _good_  at it - you had ended up placing his hand over yours on his dick and asking him to show you what worked best - but the small noises escaping him with each breath make you wonder.

movement catches your eye; his arm comes into view as he rakes his hand through his hair once, twice. his breath catches, and you hear the barest fragment of a  _moan_  in his deep voice before he moves again, clasping his hand over his mouth. the shifting noises get faster, more slick-

-and then he freezes, and your heart stops. has he heard you somehow? did you do something to give yourself away? but- but. his breath is coming in even shorter bursts now, almost gasping despite the hand over his mouth, and the shoulder leading to his other hand is still moving, just a little.

you realize, then, mouth dry, that he came. he  _came_ , and you  _witnessed_  it, you watched  _all_  of it- and you’re  _still_  watching when he sags back against the couch with a deep sigh.

god.  _god_.

your apparent bravery, however, deserts you when it looks like ford is getting up. you quickly, and more importantly,  _quietly_ , close the door again.

you figure, settling back on to the bed and slipping a hand into your underwear, that the glass of water you wanted earlier can  _wait_. there’s another thirst that needs attending to.


End file.
